


Choke

by Merci



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Breathplay, Hand Jobs, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merci/pseuds/Merci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has difficulty sleeping, and Hannibal helps in his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choke

A sob escaped Will’s throat as he thrashed atop soaked sheets. His body arched violently, fingers grasping at the nightmare that drenched his mind with blood. He should have laid out towels to save his bedding, but these nightmares were impossible to predict, and nobody could have anticipated the vicious terrors that would rake through his dreams that night.

Almost nobody.

Hannibal Lecter watched from the doorway – so accustomed to observing the other man, and yet always so fascinated by him and the way his mind twisted against itself. Will Graham was a fascinating specimen, a specimen that, like fungus, had attached himself to the psychiatrist through invisible threads and social ties. Hannibal became increasingly fascinated the more he watched Will during his waking hours, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he’d watch the near-psychopath as he slept.

And Will slept beautifully.

Not a night passed when he wasn’t covered in sweat, aching and crying out. His mind tortured him better than any inquisitor.

Hannibal stepped forward, the floor creaking beneath his feet, adding a sense of eager anticipation to the next few moments. Graham arched again, his chest heaving forward, throat exposed in that beautiful, quivering, damp line that Hannibal had observed many times before. His jugular hammered out a rhythm of terror. It beckoned. Inviting. Drawing Hannibal’s fingers out to touch, to hold, to squeeze.

Will’s eyes flew open as his breath was suddenly locked in his throat and his fingers grappled for the doctor’s fingers. Fingers that became wet with sweat and he slipped as he tried to gain purchase. He looked up into Hannibal’s eyes, his raw questions still tinged with sleep and he kicked out beneath him.

Nothing Will did could break Hannibal’s grip.

His eyes began to sag, his thrashing becoming weak as his body lost the battle and only then did Hannibal loosen his grip.

Will gasped for air, coughing while still pulling at the doctor’s hand around his throat. His lips moved, probably a question, inquiry, but there was no anger there. Will rarely felt anger – he was too close to insanity for that right now – and Hannibal felt his baser instincts making suggestions in the back of his mind. He smiled.

“You’re having trouble sleeping, it seems,” Hannibal observed, as if they were standing around the water cooler.

“Yeah,” Will choked out. “Is this… supposed to… help?” He struggled again, breathing deeply between words. “Could you let me go?”

“I could,” Hannibal said, feeling his predatory nature take over. “But it didn’t seem you were enjoying yourself. Would you like some help?”

Will sighed and smiled, a hollow grin born from exhaustion and desperation. “What did you have in--?” He began, but those fingers around his throat flicked up to gently brush his ear, and he knew well enough the expression Lecter allowed on his face.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he asked. “You look into me just a little, and you know what I have planned.”

Will forced himself to relax against the bed.

“You trust me, then?”

The younger man inclined his head as if to ask what did it matter. He pressed his palms against the damp sheets and waited.

His heart beat expectantly and Hannibal swallowed thickly as he moved his other hand to Will’s stomach and then grazed down the trail of dark hair to the waistband of his shorts. His senses devoured the situation and he soaked it in – feel, smell, sound – and he committed it all to memory. Delicious anticipation.

Delicious?

Hannibal leaned forward, his hand continuing its task of removing the shorts from the equation, while his mouth drew in close. His tongue snaked out, pointed and precise, and he drew it across Will’s cheek, taking in the taste that only enhanced the olfactory delights of Will torn between terror and sudden arousal.

With a twich and a groan, William’s length sprang to Hannibal’s palm. The doctor’s fingers closed around it and encased the thickening member in a hot, firm grip that brought the first twitch of relief to Will’s face.

Hannibal watched, inches from the other man, as he saw the pleasure begin to seep into his mind. Pure pleasure that might wipe out the terror for a second, but then Will’s throat began to feel tight and Hannibal’s fingers were closing in and there was no air left.

Arching and kicking, Will groaned and begged with his eyes. Just a little breath. Just a gasp. Just another touch. Another stroke.

Hannibal’s tongue continued its path along Will’s face, trailing down under his jaw and thoroughly tasting. His fingers becoming damp but unmovable as Will thrashed and groaned and thrust beneath him.

He tasted good.

Hannibal inhaled deeply, feeling the salt flavour of his skin tickle his nose, enhancing the taste of fear on his skin.

He almost lost himself for a moment.

Just a moment.

His pants felt tight and a twinge between his legs warned him this could go too far. But Hannibal only smiled and held his own desires at bay.

Will’s penis was slick in the cradle of his grip. He squeezed hard, stroking faster to bring about the release that was building like an avalanche within the other man. He watched as Will’s face turned a beautiful scarlet, his penis throbbing delightfully against his fingers, and a simple flick of the wrist – tightening these fingers, loosening others – and Will was sucking back air. Sucking in gulps of air while he screamed and thrashed about in Hannibal’s sticky, solid grip.

Hannibal watched it happen, feeling a speck of satisfaction crawl into his mind at his success, mingling with the wonder at what would happen to Will after this. Would he sleep, or were his demons really so powerful to overthrow the exhaustion that followed release. He caught himself pondering this, only stopping when he noticed Will watching him with exhausted, accusatory, questioning eyes. He locked eyes and patiently waited for Will to avert his gaze, but they continued looking, staring, observing.

“You may find it easier to sleep, now,” he said, pulling Will’s shorts back into place.

Will said nothing, just continuing to stare at the intruder in his bedroom.

Hannibal smiled and inclined his head before rising from the bed.

“Suppose this is a dream,” Will began, his voice scratchy and strained. “What does this mean?”

Hannibal raised a finger to his mouth, as if in thought, and chuckled. “Perhaps I’m the angel of sleep, here to take the nightmares away.” He clasped his hands together. “That is, _if_ you are dreaming about this.”

Will snorted, but said nothing more. His eyes fluttered shut moments later and Hannibal let himself out, past the pack of sleeping dogs and out into the night. It would be interesting to see the other man in the daylight, trying to cover the marks around his throat. He wondered what he’d do then.

Hannibal wondered, and smiled in anticipation.


End file.
